


Got Me In A Mood

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, very brief Roger/Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: You and Roger are friends, who just happen to occasionally sleep together. It’s just a bit of fun, nothing serious… until you realize that you’ve gone and fallen in love with him.
Relationships: Roger Taylor (Queen)/You
Kudos: 10





	Got Me In A Mood

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr (@RushingHeadlong) and written for the TGICEvent last year.
> 
> Title from the song "Sleeping With A Friend" by Neon Trees.

The first time it happens is genuinely an accident. You and Roger are the last two left standing at the end of a long night of celebratory drinking, everyone else having bowed out far earlier in the evening. Your victory tastes like cheap vodka and the regret you know you’ll have come morning but for now you’re on top of the world, staggering back to Roger’s place because it’s closer than yours and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve crashed on his couch.

This time, though, you end up in his bed instead of on the couch and sometime between fits of drunken laughter you end up kissing, and sometime after that your hand ends up down Roger’s pants and his face ends up between your thighs, and holy _fuck_ but that ends up being one of the best damn orgasms of your life.

You wake up the next morning with few memories of the night before, but with Roger curled warm and comfortable and _naked_ against your side. You worry, for a moment, about what this will do to your friendship- but then the hangover slams into you so quickly that the only thing you’re left worrying about is making it to the toilet before losing the contents of your stomach.

Roger helps you home and then stays to make you a cup of tea, and somehow you both skip past the awkward morning-after conversation and fall easily back into your usual banter as if nothing happened at all.

The second time it happens you’re both a little more sober, but not by much. You’re waiting in the wings as Queen finishes up a successful gig, and Roger comes off stage practically walking on air. It only takes a few drinks before he’s kissing you against the bar, and it’s doesn’t take long for you to drag him into the bathroom where he fingers you, quick and dirty, until you’re coming against his hand so hard that your legs give out- which just makes it easy for you to get your mouth on Roger to return the favor.

The two of you go back to the bar to knowing smirks and teasing jokes from everyone else, and a few more drinks later has you following Roger home- and into his bed- yet again. There’s the beginnings of a routine forming here and part of you wonders if you should be worried about that, but you’re too busy chasing the taste of cheap beer from Roger’s mouth to ask him about it that night.

So it’s not until it happens again that you say anything. There’s no alcohol involved this time, just a quiet afternoon hanging out as friends that ends with Roger’s hand on your thigh and yours tangled in his hair as you pull him into a kiss.

“Are we really doing this?” you ask, panting heavily against Roger’s mouth.

He laughs, just a small chuckle, and points out, “We’ve done this before.”

“We’re not drunk this time.”

“So what?” Roger asks. “It’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it? Doesn’t have to be anything more.”

Something about that feels dangerous. Roger is one of your closest friends, and both of you can be veritable forces of nature when you get wound up. It’s what has made the sex great so far but you can easily see that same passion leading everything to blow up in your faces.

Still, so far the added “benefits” haven’t ruined your friendship, so you push aside those worries for now in favor of pulling Roger into another kiss.

The two of you don’t make it to his bed this time. You climb into Roger’s lap as his hands slide up under your shirt, and you break the kiss only long enough to pull it off and toss it aside. Roger’s shirt is already unbuttoned and it’s easy enough to slide it off his shoulders, as he unhooks your bra and cups your breast in one hand.

“What do you want?” he asks between kisses, his breath hot against your mouth. His thumb teases over your nipple and you whimper, and arch up into his touch. “Want my fingers? My mouth?”

“Anything, Rog, just do _something_ ,” you say, trying to smother a gasp.

“Something” ends up being a little bit of “everything”. Roger presses kisses and lovebites down your body, finally bringing his mouth to your core, and you come with two of his fingers buried inside you and his tongue lapping at your clit, until the pleasure starts turning painful and you have to push him away.

You collapse back against the couch, breathing heavily, as Roger wipes his mouth and grins down at you. “Can I fuck you?”

“ _Please_.”

You’re still a bit too sensitive but you don’t care. Roger feels perfect as he pushes inside you, though you still whimper as he starts to fuck you. He goes slowly at first, clearly trying to make sure that you’re still enjoying yourself, but there’s something overwhelming about the care he’s showing. It’s different from the drunken fumblings that you’re used to, and it makes your heart ache in a way you don’t want to look too closely at.

“Harder, Rog, I can handle it,” you say, because you can handle _more_ better than you can handle this unexpected tenderness.

And Roger obliges, thrusting into you so hard that you can’t help but cry out, hands clawing at Roger’s back as you rock against him. _This_ is what you’re used to, half-desperate and almost-rough, Roger’s face buried in the crook of your neck, muttering obscene praises against your skin.

“Fuck, Y/N, feel so good, you’re so good, baby,” he groans, bringing one hand between you to rub at your clit. “Want you to come, Y/N, before I do. Want you to come for me, baby, c’mon now-”

It’s Roger calling you _baby_ in that voice that tips you over the edge, your orgasm taking you almost by surprise as you grind down against his hand and his cock. Roger keeps rocking into you, but it only takes a few more thrusts before he comes inside you with a low moan.

This is the point where in your past drunken encounters the two of you would already be halfway to passed out from the combination of endorphins and alcohol. Now, completely sober, the two of you still take a moment to lie together and catch your breath, but you’re caught off-guard when Roger nuzzles at your neck.

Roger has always been affectionate after sex, but he’s also just an affectionate _drunk_ in general. You had always assumed that that was the reason for his tender gestures in the afterglow, so you’re surprised to learn now that he’s apparently just always like this. It makes your face flush a little bit hotter, and you open your mouth to make the some quip- but it dies with a small, hitching breath as Roger presses a gentle, absentminded kiss behind your ear.

Your stomach swoops and your heart flutters, and you quickly roll out from underneath Roger. “Sorry, gotta pee,” you mumble, and flee to the relative safety of the bathroom.

Once there you splash cold water on your face with shaking hands, and sternly tell yourself that the feeling in your chest isn’t a budding love for your best friend.

By the time you finally return to the living room, you almost believe it- but Roger’s easy grin looks exactly like the danger you were worried about.

* * *

Maybe the problem is that you’ve always been a little bit in love with Roger - but the thing is, _everyone_ is a little bit in love with Roger, aren’t they? He just has that sort of personality, all passion and spark and pushing for _more_ out of his life and everyone in it. He’s the sort of person that you can take one look at and just _know_ that they’re going to be going places.

There’s something unspeakably attractive about him, something magnetic that draws people in, something that makes it easy to forgive him for his quick-tempered moments or messy nights of over-indulgence. Roger Taylor isn’t perfect but there is something fundamentally loveable about him anyway, so it only makes sense that your signals have gotten a little crossed.

You explain all of this to Brian as you wait for Roger, Freddie and John to show up at your bar of choice that evening, confident in your flawless reasoning.

That confidence fades a little when Brian sighs and says, “Look, Y/N-”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupt. “I’m not really in love with him. I can’t be.”

“Well, it sort of sounds like you are.”

“I _can’t_ be,” you insist. “It’s just- it’s just sex. It makes things a little complicated, that’s all. Maybe if I sleep with Roger enough times I’ll get over it.”

Brian chokes on his drink. “Or you could _stop_ sleeping with him. And stop telling me about it, I don’t need to hear what my friends get up to.”

“Buddy, you haven’t heard _anything_ yet. I could tell you about that thing he does with his-”

“Freddie! Over here!” Brian calls out before you can finish that sentence. He waves across the bar to Freddie and John, who clearly have just arrived.

“I see you two have started without us,” Freddie says as he slides into one of the seats next to Brian. John sits between you and Brian, leaving an empty seat for Roger on your right. You’re a little pleased about that, but you try to stamp the feeling down before any of it can show on your face.

Although, now that you’re thinking about him… “I thought Roger was coming out with us tonight,” you say, and you ignore the pointed look that Brian gives you.

“Don’t you worry, he’s just getting the first round for us, darling.”

“That’s not all he’s getting,” John says with a laugh.

He nods towards the bar, and when you glance over you can see that Roger is already chatting up a girl. There’s a smile on his face that you’ve seen too many times before and the girl has her hand on Roger’s arm, and your stomach lurches unpleasantly at the sight of the two of them together.

“Well he’d better come back with our drinks _before_ he takes her home,” Freddie says, rolling his eyes.

“You can have mine, Fred. It’s, um- It’s not agreeing with me.” Because _something_ is causing bile to rise in the back of your throat, and you refuse to think about what else it could be. You push the glass across the table towards Freddie and stand up. “I think I’m just gonna head home.”

“What? But we only just got here!” Freddie protests- though that doesn’t stop him from snagging your drink and taking a large sip.

John gives you a critical look, and finally offers you a small smile. “You do look pretty pale, Y/N. Hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Tell Roger I’m sorry I missed him.”

You start to walk away but Brian catches your wrist and stops you from leaving. “Tell him yourself,” Brian says in a low voice, so only you can hear. “He’s not gonna know how you feel if you don’t talk to him.”

“Piss off, Brian. The only thing I’m feeling is sick.” You yank your wrist out of his grip and storm off, past Roger and the blonde that he’s still chatting up. If Roger sees you leaving, you don’t notice at all.

You don’t sleep well that night. Despite your efforts, your thoughts keep drifting back to Roger- wishing you were the one he took home instead of that girl at the bar, wishing you were cuddled up with him instead of alone in your bed, and wishing that the thought of him with someone else didn’t _hurt_ as badly as it does.

You’re no stranger to jealousy but this is something else altogether. Maybe there was some truth to what Brian was saying. Not _love_ , that’s ridiculous, but the beginnings of… something. Possessiveness - that’s it. You never liked sharing your toys as a kid, so it stands to reason that you wouldn’t like sharing Roger either.

That’s all it is. That’s all you’ll allow it to be.

Still you don’t feel much better the following morning, though you’re quick to blame it on the lack of sleep the night before. You’re grouchy and irritable, and when there’s a knock on your door in the early afternoon you don’t particularly feel up for company.

“What do you want?” you snap as you yank your door open, and your mouth drops open in shock when you see Roger standing there. “Oh, Roger! Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Wow, you really are sick, aren’t you?” Roger says with an easy grin. “You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Roger, on the other hand, looks great. He’s practically _glowing_ , the tell-tale sign that he got laid the night before and he’s still walking on cloud nine because of it, and your stomach twists with jealous anger.

“Listen, I can’t stay long, but I got worried when the others told me you had left early last night and I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Roger says. “Oh, and I brought you this!”

He holds out a brown paper bag, which you take with a small amount of trepidation. “What is it?”

“A container of soup, just in case you weren’t feeling well enough to cook,” Roger says. “And toast, though that’s probably gone cold by now.”

You swallow down a lump in your throat and manage to force out a quiet, “Thanks, Rog. I appreciate this.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, I’d do this for any of my friends.” Roger leans in and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. He’s still grinning at you but you can see the genuine concern in his eyes, and it’s all suddenly too much for you to handle.

“Thanks,” you manage to force out again. “Listen, I’m gonna go lie down, I’m not feeling well-”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Feel better soon, Y/N - and come see me when you do!” Roger gives you a wink, before waving goodbye and leaving.

You close the door to your flat and stand there, holding Roger’s soup and blinking back tears, and wishing desperately that he was still here with you: to take care of you and kiss you and tell you that he loves-

You throw the bag across the room, not caring that the container inside bursts open and soup starts leaking out. You sink down to the floor and bury your face in your hands, because you can’t keep lying to yourself about this anymore.

You’ve gone and fallen in love with Roger, and you have no idea what you’re supposed to do about that.

* * *

You don’t stop sleeping with Roger.

You should, you know that… but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Now that you have this part of Roger in your life you can’t let it go, even though Roger’s post-coital affection makes your heart ache with yearning. You drag your feet when it comes time to leave Roger’s place in the mornings after, and when Roger ends up at your flat you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him to stay forever.

It’s not all bad, though. Despite your new feelings the sex is still incredible, and your friendship with Roger hasn’t suffered at all. The two of you still hang out constantly, meeting up between classes and shifts at the stall, laughing and joking just the same as you ever have. You know Roger doesn’t feel the same way about you and that hurts, but you’re trying to get over it. You’re still thankful to have him as a friend at least, even if you know you’ll never be anything more than that.

You stop going home with other guys at all, though plenty have shown interest. The others question you about it, once or twice, when they see you turn down someone’s advances, but you brush their curiosity aside with any one of a thousand excuses: You’re too tired, they’re too drunk, you just weren’t feeling it… Every single one of them a lie, because the truth is that they’re simply not _Roger_.

Only Brian doesn’t ask questions, but his knowing looks every time the subject gets raised are somehow even worse.

Roger still hooks up with other girls. Which is _fine_ , as long as you don’t need to see it happen and as long as you don’t know the details of it. Roger, for once, is content to keep his secrets and you suspect that that Brian is doing his best to keep Freddie and John quiet when the five of you meet up.

But conversations with Queen have a tendency to get out of hand, and sometime in the middle of Freddie’s latest rambling story about their out-of-town gig last weekend he drops in, “And then _Roger_ , you bastard, you snuck away with that girl who’d been practically climbing the stage all night!”

Your stomach plummets and your easy grin quickly fades away.

“I did _not_ sneak away with her!” Roger protests hotly, and you wish you were anywhere but here, being forced to listen to this story.

“You did so!” Freddie insists and John, laughing, adds, “He’s right, Rog, you didn’t even finish helping us pack up the gear before you were out the door with her!”

“Can we change the subject? I’m tired of hearing you bring this up every five minutes,” Brian interrupts, feigning annoyance, but you know he’s interrupting for your sake rather than his. You’d be grateful for that, if you could feel anything except _sick_ at the moment.

“Oh come on, Brian, you were as pissed as we were that he took off so quickly!” Freddie says with another laugh. “You’d think poor Rog hadn’t gotten any in _weeks_ , the way he was so eager to get into her pants-”

You stand up so quickly that your chair topples over backwards, and you bolt away from the table before anyone has a chance to say anything. Not that you’d hear them even if they did - your heart is beating loud enough to drown out everything around you, and your vision starts to blur with unshed tears as you race out the door.

As soon as you get outside you duck around the corner of the building, leaning against the wall and furiously wiping your tears away, trying to get your emotions under control. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ ,” you mutter, furious at yourself for your reaction.

You have no right to be upset. Roger doesn’t love you. It was never supposed to be exclusive.

You repeat these facts over and over but you can’t wrestle down your feelings with logic anymore. You just _hurt_ , and right now it’s more than you can bear.

“Y/N?”

Any other time you’d be thrilled to hear that voice, but right now Roger is the last person you want to talk to. “Go away. Just- just leave me alone.”

But Roger, being Roger, doesn’t leave and instead takes a step closer to you. “Are you crying? Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not crying, I’m _fine_ ,” you say, trying not to sniffle and give yourself away.

“No, you’re not,” Roger says, refusing to let this go and leave you alone. “Just tell me what’s bothering you. You’re my friend, and I want to help you if I can.”

Hearing Roger yet again call you his “friend” is what finally breaks you completely and you whirl on him, full of fury and pain. “That’s what’s bothering me!” you snap. “That I’m your _friend_. That I’m only ever going to be your _friend_. We fuck and then we go our separate ways, and you get to sleep with any groupie who throws herself at you while I’m left alone because I had to go and fall in love with someone who doesn’t love me back!”

Roger stares at you, his mouth hanging open in shock. “Y/N, what…?”

“I love you, you idiot,” you say. “We started hooking up and I fell in love with you and I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I kept sleeping with you when I knew you didn’t feel the same, and I’m sorry for not saying something sooner, and I’m sorry that this is probably going to ruin our friendship, and-”

Roger interrupts your tirade with a kiss. It’s gentle, chaste, the barest brush of his lips against yours, so different from your passionate makeout sessions that you’re stunned into silence. When he pulls away he keeps one hand cupping your face, so you can’t turn away as he says, “Who ever said that I don’t love you too?”

You stare at him, stunned by this unexpected turn of events. “But you never said… And why would you go home with other girls…?”

“Because I didn’t think _you_ loved me, and I was trying to get over you,” Roger admits. “Obviously it didn’t work.”

“Obviously? You hooked up with that groupie-”

“I took her back to the hotel, yeah, but we didn’t have sex. I, ah…” His face flushes and he scrunches his nose in embarrassment, before finally confessing, “I accidentally called her Y/N and she rightfully stormed out on me. _That’s_ how gone I am for you. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

For the first time since you stormed out of the bar you laugh, warmth blooming in your chest as you smile hopefully at Roger. “So what you’re saying is, we’ve _both_ been idiots here.”

“Well _idiots_ is a bit harsh, but… yeah, maybe we have been,” Roger says, and that’s enough for you to surge forward and kiss him again.

Unlike Roger’s kiss yours isn’t gentle. It can’t be, not now, not when all the love you’ve been trying to bury down suddenly comes rushing forward. It’s hot and desperate and full of everything you’ve been hiding for weeks now, and Roger meets you with the same urgency. He pushes you against the side of the building, pressing forward until there’s no space left between your bodies at all.

You roll your hips against Roger’s and he groans, breaking the kiss to drop his head to the crook of your neck, panting heavily against your skin. “Fuck, Y/N, stop, stop, we’re in public, we can’t-”

“We have before,” you say, still rocking against Roger and feeling him grow harder in his jeans. “Our second time, in the bathroom of the bar-”

“That’s not the same as fucking you against a wall outside,” Roger protests, though his hips rock against yours and he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to pull away. “I love you, Y/N. I want to take you home and do this right.”

You bite back a whimper at hearing Roger so easily tell you that he loves you, and it only serves to heighten your desire. “Rog, I love you more than I have words for and that’s why I need you, _now_. Please, god, I can’t wait to get back to your place, I need you, please, _please_ -”

Roger kisses you again, fierce and quick. “Alright, alright, whatever you want. As long as I can still make love to you later tonight.”

“You can do whatever you want to me, just please-” The rest of your begging gets cut off as Roger slides a hand underneath your skirt and presses against your core. Even through your panties his touch makes you cry out and Roger kisses you again, swallowing down every sound you make.

“Gotta keep quiet, baby, can’t let anyone hear you,” Roger murmurs against your mouth as he slips his hand inside your panties slides his fingers along your already slick folds.

Roger isn’t in a teasing mood, which is perfect because you’re too desperate to last long anyway. _This_ is what you needed: Roger pressed against you, his fingers pushing inside, his thumb rubbing your clit… Every movement, every kiss, every _baby_ and _that’s it, that’s my good girl_ and _love you, god I love you_ reminding you that Roger is here and he’s _yours_.

You can feel your orgasm building and you grind against Roger’s hand as he works it against you, chasing that peak with every roll of your hips. “Yeah, Y/N, that’s it,” Roger says, pushing another finger inside you and twisting them. “Come for me, I want you to come for me, baby-”

And you do with a moan that Roger can’t quite muffle soon enough, the sound of your pleasure echoing down the darkened street before Roger gets his lips on yours again. You whine against his mouth as Roger’s skillful fingers work you through your orgasm, until your knees almost buckle and Roger has to get wrap his free arm around your waist to keep you upright.

“God, Roger, I fucking love you,” you pant, leaning heavily against Roger as you catch your breath.

“Love you too,” Roger says with a small laugh and a fond smile. “God, do I love you. Now can we _please_ get back to my place so I can fuck you properly?”

“ _Absolutely_.”

Roger pulls his hand out from underneath your skirt and, flashing you a wicked smirk, sucks his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. You whimper at the sight and pull Roger’s fingers away so you can kiss the taste of yourself out of his mouth instead.

* * *

You’ve slept with Roger dozens of time before, in a dozen different ways, but it’s never quite been like _this_.

Roger wasn’t kidding when he said that he wanted to make love to you. Your desperation from earlier has been sated, for the time being, and the two of you undress each other slowly, trading soft kisses broken only to pull off shirts or wrestle with a particularly stubborn button.

Roger pushes you down onto his bed and kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise into the hollow of your throat. “What do you want, baby?” he purrs. “Want me to eat you out? Finger you again?”

“Just fuck me, please.” Roger keeps moving down your body, licking over one of your nipples, and you arch into his touch. “Roger, _please_ ,” you whine. “Please fuck me, I love you, don’t wanna wait any more-”

Roger chuckles and kisses your breast, and then the center of your chest, and a third down on your stomach. “I don’t know if you’re insatiable or if I’m just that good,” he teases, dipping his tongue into your bellybutton and nipping at the crease of your thigh.

“It’s just you,” you tell him. “You drive me crazy, Rog, god-”

Roger moves back up to kiss you properly. “I drive you crazy? God, Y/N, do you even know what you do to me?” He laughs, breathless, and adds, “Good thing we got together, or who knows what sort of mess we would’ve ended up in eventually.”

Your heart skips a beat and you grin at Roger and say, “Together, huh?”

Roger’s eyes go wide. “I- I mean, if you want, I just thought-”

You reach down for Roger’s cock, giving it one long, slow stroke to cut off the rest of his babbling. Roger groans and ducks his head, rocking his hips even after you hold your hand still around him.

“I love you, and I love the sound of us being together,” you tell him. “But right now I’d _really_ love it if you just fucked me already.”

That startles a laugh out of Roger and he rolls out of your grip to grab the lube and a condom. “Alright, alright, you don’t have to twist my arm.”

He goes to slick his fingers but you stop him before he can. “Don’t need that, you got me open enough earlier.”

“Fuck, Y/N, you sure?” Roger asks, though he’s already tearing open the condom and rolling it over his cock.

“Roger, listen to me,” you say. “I love you and I love that you want to do this properly for once, but if you don’t get inside me in the next two seconds I’m gonna-”

The rest of your empty threat is cut off as Roger pushes into you, slow but insistent, rocking into you more gently than you’re used to from him. It reminds you of the tenderness that he showed you the day that you first realized you were starting to have feelings for Roger.

You were scared of his gentleness then, scared of what it could mean for either of you, and you begged him to fuck you harder - but this time you don’t want harder, you don’t want rougher, you just want _this_. Roger’s cock fills you perfectly, and you’re sensitive enough from your earlier orgasm that each deep thrust makes you cry out.

“Love you, love you, _love you_ ,” you chant, clinging to Roger as he moves inside you, your nails digging half-moons into Roger’s shoulders

“Love you too,” Roger groans. “Love you so much, god, fuck, _fuck_ -”

His thrusts start to get a little erratic, a little harder, and you reach down to touch yourself, knowing it won’t take much for you to come again. But Roger beats you to it, getting his fingers on your clit before you can, and you choke on a gasp, your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull as he rubs and teases at your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Roger- oh, god, fuck, Rog, Rog-”

You don’t even get a chance to warn him that you’re about to come. Your orgasm crashes over you suddenly, catching you off-guard and startling a loud cry of pleasure out of you, vision nearly whiting out as you’re overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

Roger groans at the sight and sound of you coming undone beneath him. “Fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, love you, Y/N, love you so fucking much-” he babbles, his movements starting to get sloppy as he chases his own orgasm.

You capture his lips in a kiss and do your best to tighten around him. “Come for me, baby, c’mon now,” you pant against Roger’s mouth and he finally does with a loud moan, his kisses turning sloppy and his hips stuttering into you, each movement sending sparks of overstimulated pleasure skittering down your spine.

Roger finally pulls out, tossing the condom somewhere over the side of the bed before collapsing next to you. When you’ve slept with Roger in the past you would always be afraid to move in too close, or else spend too much time overanalyzing what the tiniest of his actions meant to enjoy the afterglow. Now you don’t hesitate to snuggle up against his side, sighing in contentment as Roger throws an arm around your waist and holds you close.

“Should get cleaned up at some point,” you mumble.

Roger presses a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “Later. Or tomorrow. You don’t have any plans, do you?”

“For tomorrow?” you ask. Roger nods; you can feel the movement of it against your bare skin. “No, nothing.”

“Good.” Roger gives you a soft smile. “Stay then. Not just tonight but tomorrow too, I mean.”

You smile back at him, feeling lazy and content and so in love that it makes your whole chest ache with happiness. “I’ll stay. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Stay forever then,” Roger says. “I love you, and I don’t want you to ever leave again.”

You lean in and kiss Roger, and he meets you halfway. It’s sleepy and gentle and _perfect_ , and all you want to have for the rest of your life. “Yeah,” you breathe. “I think I can do that.”


End file.
